Mistake
by Purplebunnysfly
Summary: Jon and Melka are outcasts who need each other to be understood.  written before reading about Jon in the Night's Watch


Jon leaned against the wall trying to forget Tyrion's words, not wanting to admit the dwarf had probably been right. He knew he should go back to his room soon, otherwise another unwelcomed guest might appear and make conversation. He turned kicking his heels into the dirt to gain momentum as he lunged forward before walking off in the direction of his room. "Jon," the voice was tender and sweet. Jon knew the speaker immediately, she was not one of the unwelcomed, he was partially glad of her presence. He wiped his face afraid to leave a remnant of the tears he'd been so foolishly crying. "Jon," she said again, this time as a question. "Yes," he said spinning to face her. Her hair reflected silver in the moonlight though he knew it was normally the color of sand. The moon highlighted her eyes as well showing their crystal blue. He'd always been fearful of looking directly into them; being a bastard he was unworthy of their splendor. Melka was Eddard Stark's ward. She too was not permitted to sit with the Stark's at the feast, though her crime was not nearly as frowned upon as Jon's. Melka had a name; she was not a bastard like him. Jon thought even if she was no one would be able to turn her away or treat her poorly as they did him. Melka was the daughter of some high ranking knight who'd fought alongside Lord Stark in the battle to win Robert his throne. When he and Melka's mother died, Eddard stepped forward to claim the child who had no other relatives. "I saw," Melka did not finish her sentence knowing she would not need to. "Eh, they can all rot," Jon said bravely and boldly. "I brought you some wine." She held out a cup to him keeping one for her, "the better part of not sitting with the royals." She laughed a soft laugh, not fake like most girls who laughed delicately. Jon could tell by her eyes this was not the first wine she would be having. Concern was in them but overwhelmed by a twinkle of wonder as if she were pondering life's greatest questions and the answers were coming to her with ease. "At least you have Stark blood in you," she whispered, "the rest of the boys in there cannot say that. It may not seem it but a bastard is better than a boy that no one can remember." "You would think," Jon only said the words to be polite, he would much rather have been any of the other men at the feast. "I wish Eddard were my father, even if I were a bastard," Melka declared. She often stated this. Jon usually agreed that he liked Lord Stark as a father but not tonight. "Would you like to walk," he asked hoping to change the subject. "Yes," Melka replied after a moment of staring into the dark sky, "anything to get away from here. Are you going to finish that?" She stumbled forward to join him in walking away from the festivities and gestured to the un-tasted wine in his hand, hers was nearly finished now. "Yes," Jon knew both of them were drinking more than they should, but he also knew he would finish the glass Melka brought him. "So what happened?" "Oh, nothing," Melka shook her head vigorously, "just the stupid little girls laughing at me not being able to sit up at the high tables, as if I care anyway! Although I did wish Arya was with me when they started to close in and for that I would have had to have been at Arya's table." Melka and Arya were the best of friends, they could rarely be found apart from one another. Melka was older by a year but did not tire of Arya's adventurous spirit as Sansa did. Jon thought sometimes that Melka was the glue keeping Arya and Sansa's relationship civil in most cases for she knew how to please both of the stubbornly separate-minded sisters. "The girls are jealous you live in the castle and are more beautiful than them," Jon insisted, "ignore them. I'm sure Arya will have a go at them first chance she gets." "I really do hope so." Jon pushed open the door to his room. It hadn't been his intended destination but the world was becoming blurry as he continued sipping the wine and he was glad to be in a familiar place void of all unfamiliar people. Melka stumbled into the room dropping her empty wine glass on the table holding Jon's lamp. "I'm tired," she whispered leaning to one side as though she would fall. Jon put his dry cup down next to hers and caught her before she made it to the ground. "How many did you drink," he asked helping her onto his bed. Melka gazed up into Jon eyes with a peculiar smile crossing her lips. Jon could not look away the way he usually would have. "I can't remember," she admitted, "do you?" Jon couldn't tell whether the question had been asking the amount he drank or not, still he tried to recall the number he'd had. "Six," he settled on the number but was unsure of the truth. Melka's hands closed on his shoulders and he realized she'd forgotten her question. She pulled him down and he didn't resist as he knew he should have. She kissed him lightly; first on the cheek and then on the lips. All doubt of what was right and wrong floated from Jon's mind the moment her flower petal soft lips touched his rough ones. He worried not if he was kissing her correctly. Robb would make fun of him for not knowing how to kiss a woman, though neither of them actually knew. Jon always feared Robb's mocking would become reality when he finally kissed a girl but tonight all anxiety he may have had was lost, swallowed by the wine when it poured down his throat.

Sun shone brightly through the open curtains Jon hadn't remembered to pull closed the night before. He tried to fight the rays and stay asleep hoping the rest would help his throbbing head. Finally he gave up and slowly opened his eyes adjusting to the unnatural amount of light. He couldn't remember anything after meeting with Tyrion the night before; he was half surprised he wasn't passed out in the middle of town. A pounding at his door forced him to give up on waking gradually. It was then that he realized Melka asleep next to him. Her gown, the same blinding blue of her eyes, lay discarded on the floor and he still tasted her lips on his. He dressed quickly running to the door but was too late. The knocking came again. "Jon, are you alright," Maester Luwin called. Melka's eyes shot open and she sat up. Jon waited for her to pull the bedding over herself before opening the door. "We are looking for Melka," said Luwin, "no one has seen her since the…" he trailed off spotting her. "It was a mistake," Jon bowed his head. "Yes." Jon had heard Maester Luwin when he was mad. His voice could reach volumes even Lord Stark was unable to match. Luwin was not mad however he sounded distressed. "Both of you get ready. We will not have to tell Lord Stark if you do not want to." He left taking the two empty wine glasses with him.


End file.
